


Little Warrior

by sparkinski



Series: the universe that got away from me [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Cullen Fluff, Cullen uses Elven phrases, Cullen/Lavellan Family, Fluff, Kid Fic, Krem is the best babysitter, Lavellan and HoF are from the same clan, Several years in the future, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinski/pseuds/sparkinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles about Cullen and Lavellan's growing family. Between their kid, and their friends, they couldn't be happier.</p><p>Much fluffiness ensues.</p><p>Chapters not in chronological order. Essentially set in the same universe as another fic I'm writing (not posted anywhere yet), so this will reflect the backstory and effects of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. da' panelan

**Author's Note:**

> I fell deep into the world of Dragon Age several months ago, but only recently became invested enough to spend most of my time writing about it. dad!Cullen screams kept floating around in Twitterverse, until I was hurting so much by the idea that I had to start a story of some nature. The opening scene in this chapter is based on a lil' comic I was sent on Twitter, but I don't know the source. So if it seems familiar to anyone, and they know the piece I'm talking about AND who created it, PLEASE let me know because I would love, love, love to source them because it is one of my favorite things Cullen-related I have come across thus far!
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> (Comments are very much appreciated. Even if you hate it. Just tell me why and I'll work on being better!

“Daddy…”

The word was a whisper, a tendril gently spiraling along his subconscious. His head was heavy, dreams nearing.

“Daddy.”

He huffed out a small breath, eyes heavier, a vision of golden brown hair and blue eyes, an intricate vallaslin gracing her cheekbones, her lips curving upward into a sweet smile.

It was the tugging on his sleeve that did it, that ripped him away from that inbetween state, where he definitely was not awake, but not quite asleep either. He jerked upright, his temple throbbing painlessly where it had been resting on his fist, and he wanted to be angry that he could not dream about his love, his wife, because Maker, did he miss her…

But one glance down at the culprit absolutely vanquished any ill feelings he might have had.

His daughter peered up at him with wide, hazel eyes, crouched down and her tiny hand still clenched around a bundle of his shirtsleeve; he had startled her, no doubt. Immediately, his face melted into a welcoming grin and he unleashed a nervous chuckle. “What are you doing down there?” he asked her.

Her expression brightened considerably and she said, “I didn’t want to wake you up, but I thought you’d be happy…”

A tilt of his head and a cocked eyebrow conveyed his confusion to her, and he reached down, murmuring, “Come on, pup,” as he planted her on his lap.

She kissed his cheek and melted his heart.

“Now,” Cullen said, smoothing down the girl’s blonde curls. “What am I going to be happy about, exactly?”

“About _Mommy!_ ” she insisted, eyes twinkling, and his breath caught in his throat, because this little girl may have his hair, but otherwise she so _completely_ resembled her mother and for some reason, five years later, it was still catching him off guard.

His smile was sad as he tugged on her pointed ear playfully. “You know she will not be home for another couple of weeks, ma’ vhenan.”

“ _No_.” The little girl shook her head vigorously. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I heard Uncle Varric talking to Josie and she’s coming home today! Maybe even right now!”

Cullen did not dare let himself be hopeful, that he would get to see her, talk to her, _feel_ her, but maybe the child was onto something? “What exactly was said?”

She sighed exasperatedly and he felt a grin tugging at his lips. “Krem was carrying me around the castle,” she explained, as if that were a completely normal thing the poor Charger should have been doing. “We were passing the door that goes to the War Room and heard whispering so I told him to stop so we could listen, and Uncle Varric said, _Inquis-ter should be here any minute now, but Curly doesn’t know still, so we’re gonna sneak her in._ He said it was a surprise!!”

Oh, there was that hope he said he would push aside bubbling within him. “Oh, Ava, what have I told you about eavesdropping?” Yet as stern as he wished to be… he had _butterflies--_ manly, very manly butterflies, mind you--as if he was seeing Ellana for the first time again.

His little girl giggled, seeing _right_ through him, and he rather felt like the child here. “I _knew_ it would make you happy!” she declared, hugging his neck tight.

With a deep breath and arms tight around her, he murmured, “And what makes you think I wasn’t already happy, pup?”

She pulled back so she could place her tiny hands on his cheeks, her eyebrows furrowed comically, but genuine concern was ingrained there. “You always sit in Mommy’s chair when you’re sad and miss her.”

Maker’s breath-

“When you’re sad, it makes me sad.” Ava frowned, and Cullen’s entire being shattered. She had gotten her heart of absolute, pure gold from her mother, and he felt horrible for being like this. Because she was right; any time he missed his love terribly, he would come sit at her desk, surround himself in her space. Sometimes he would write, a hobby he had picked up over the years, sometimes he would work, and others he would sleep.

He just had not realized how perceptive his little girl had been to it. He loved her with all his heart, and could never have her believe she was not worth his happiness.

“I’ll tell you what,” Cullen remarked, scooping her up in his arms as he stood, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Let us read to each other, yes? We’ll stay in bed until your mother gets here, all day if we have to!”

Ava shrieked when he playfully tossed her onto the bed, just a few inches. “All day?!”

“Yes, my heart,” he chuckled as he opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out two books. Their favorites.

She gasped, an idea obviously striking her. “Can we pretend to be ‘sleep when she comes in?!”

“You want to trick Mommy?”

She climbed to her knees and hobbled to the edge of the bed, grasping her father’s arm as if it was a lifeline. “No, no, no. _Surprise_ her!”

“Ah,” he smiled down at her. “I like the way you think, da’ panelan.”

She beamed up at him, radiant, before plopping back onto the pillows and scooting over to give him room. He had an endless slew of nicknames for her, it seemed, but only a couple were Elven, and that one was her favorite. _da’ panelan_. _Little warrior._

“I’m going first!” Ava proclaimed loudly, immediately snuggling into his side and making grabby hands for her book.

He laughed and passed it over. “Eager today, are we?”

“I’ve been practicing, daddy. You’re gonna be proud!”

“I am always proud of you,” he mumbled sweetly, placing his own book to the side and settling in comfortably, an arm wrapped around her and his chin on her head.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest. “Well… you’re gonna be more proud!”

“Prouder works, darling.”

“Oh… prouder!” Then she tapped his stomach with an impatient hand. “Okay, story time! So last night, we stopped _right_ at the part when the horse left the Herald and Commander and they got stranded in the mountains! I bet it was cold.”

Cullen hid his smile in his daughter’s hair, even though she couldn’t see him regardless. He remembered that day vividly and though, at the time, he and Ellana were both certain they would _literally_ freeze to death, it was ultimately the event that triggered their close friendship, and eventually their relationship.

Varric had written _two_ books about it, and their adventures as the Inquisition. The book Ava had was hers though, and only hers. Varric had completely reworked his original story into a childrens’ novel, and presented it to Ava for her fifth birthday. He had turned it into more of a fairy tale for her, veering away from the tragic quest that killing Corypheus had actually been. It was filled to the brim with beauty and lessons and heroes and humor; the old Magister had been turned into a very silly villain and Solas was not mentioned at all in the end.

They all preferred that version.

That was how Cullen always wanted her to think of the tale, at least. He never wanted her to know how bad it really was. But he supposed for now, they were safe, because she wasn’t even aware yet that the main characters were her family.

“ _Would you be un… uncomf…”_ Ava frowned, he did not have to see it to know it happened.

“Uncomfortable,” he whispered.

“ _U-Uncom-for-ta-ble if I used magic to help us through this_?” The girl gasped. “Magic! The Commander doesn’t like magic!! Oh no!”

The man honest to Maker did not know whether to groan in embarrassment, or burst out laughing.

They were a little farther into the chapter, Ava progressing slowly, yet more easily through the words, just at the part where Varric and Dorian showed up to “save the day”--Cullen rolled his eyes--when he faintly heard a door shut. One that sounded suspiciously like the door to the Great Hall.

His heartbeat rose, pounding in his chest as he slowly removed the book from Ava’s hands, gently shushing her as she began to protest. “Time to sleep, pup.”

“Time to-? _Oh!”_ Her last word was a whisper and she utterly _flailed_.

He wrapped both arms around her hastily to keep her from falling off the bed, choked on a silent laugh because she was acting how he _felt_. _Maker_ , _thank you for bringing her home to us early._

Cullen loosened his grip on the girl and she frantically fell limp, trying to feign sleep, and he smirked, closed his eyes just as the door at the bottom of the stairs opened.

It felt an eternity for the familiar footsteps to reach the quarters, but he did not have to be familiar with her footfall to know it was her.

He could just _feel_ her presence.

Trying to control his breathing, he focused on the pull he felt inside him as she sighed happily and crept closer. He wondered sometimes if that feeling was something to do with her magic, or if their souls were truly so _bonded_.

She was right next to him now and her scent overwhelmed him; he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this facade as she gently eased Ava’s book from his hand. Her touch, feather-light, singed him, and he found himself peeking at her as she opened the drawer to the bedside table as easily as she could, storing the books in their usual home.

He held his breath at her beauty, her grace, the way her hair was tied back, loose golden brown strands escaping to graze her cheeks. He closed his eyes just in time as she turned to him and rubbed her thumb across his cheek lovingly.

When she leaned down to kiss his forehead, his arm slipped under her and smoothly hooked onto a belt loop and  _tugged_ , instantly laughing at the surprised _squawk_ she released as she toppled onto him. Ava jumped out of the way as Cullen wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her body fully on top of his, overwhelmed with joy and warmth, and then the little girl joined in, slithering her small arms around her mother’s neck and together they were just a tangle of limbs all unwilling to part.

Ellana laughed, and sweet Maker, the sound was music to Cullen’s ears. “Ar lath ma, da’len,” she murmured to their daughter, who squirmed and hugged her tighter.

“Ar lath ma, mama.”

The woman turned her gaze on him then, and her feelings were evident. She had missed them as much as they had missed her. “Ma’ vhenan,” she whispered as she leaned down to brush her lips against his, brief and barely there, a taste, a promise for later.

So he breathed her in while he could, brushed the stray strands of hair behind her ear, traced her vallaslin with his eyes, drinking the sight of her in. He thought he would go _weeks_ longer without her in his arms and couldn’t _believe_ that had almost been feasible. Her name left his lips as a sigh.

“I know, Cullen, I know.”

And she did. She always did. And so did he. They knew each other so well it was scary sometimes, but he would never, ever have it any other way.

“Daddy,” Ava interjected softly. “I need to ask Mommy something.”

Cullen chuckled, confused. “You do not need my permission to ask your mother a question, pup.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But you were doing that thing, where you stare at each other and Krem says we shouldn’t interrupt you when you do that.”

“Does he now?” Ellana questioned with a smirk. “Does he say why?”

The little girl shrugged. “He says you two are talking but not actually talking… and I don’t know what that means, but I trust Krem, so I try not to interrupt but this is important!”

Cullen felt himself blush and Ellana smiled at him, leaned down to kiss his red cheek, because they _did_ get that way a lot; he should not have been surprised people had noticed. Was also sort of touched that Krem had explained it to their daughter the way he had.

“What is your question, Ava?” Ellana giggled and Cullen felt his grip on her tightening against his will. He never wanted to let her go.

The girl’s eyes grew wide, an absolutely adorable expression overtaking her face that Dorian had dubbed as her “puppy dog face--if you _like_ puppies, that is” and whispered, “Did you bring us any gifts?”

“Ava,” Cullen chided while his wife just laughed. “She _just_ made it home.”

“I-I know,” she mumbled. “But Mommy always brings us the coolest stuff!”

“It’s fine, my darlings,” Ellana interjected. “I did not find much this time, _but,”_ she let the tension build up a tiny bit while Ava bounced up and down in place. “Alistair has a gift for you.”

Cullen was certain their daughter was going to skyrocket herself through the roof with excitement. “ _Alistair?!_ Is he _here_?!” she cried.

“He is, my sweet. And Mahariel.” Ava _whooped_ with happiness. “They will be staying in the castle with us for a while. How does _that_ sound?”

“Are you joking?! That sounds _amazing_!”

Cullen raised his eyebrows in question as his love glanced down at him, so she leaned to his ear and whispered, “Mahariel is expecting.”

“Wh- Are you serious? That’s-” He was at a loss and he mouthed to her, “The cure _worked._ ”

She nodded happily and buried her face against his neck, and he knew she was hiding the way her eyes had prickled with tears. Tears of happiness, but nonetheless. He gulped and turned to Ava. “Alright pup, why don't you get washed up and change your clothes, because I _bet_ Alistair and Lyna will have dinner with us.”

“OKAY!” Without further question, she was _bolting_ for the door that led to her own little bedroom.

“Make sure to brush your hair!” he called after her, then turned his attention to his wife, to how he could feel her tears leaking against his skin. “Elle…”

“I am fine, I swear, I just-...”

“I know, my dear.” He held her hair back as she lifted to gaze at him. Her left hand found his face and he found himself marveling for the thousandth time how with her gloves on, you could not even tell one of her arms had been created for her. Dagna was a true miracle-worker.

She kissed him, much more firmly and much longer this time, with Ava out of the room, and Cullen found himself pulling her hair down so he could run his fingers through it.

Ellana smiled against him and he brushed away her stray tears as she pulled back. “We had lost all hope,” she murmured. “We were all certain that they would be dying, and so soon…”

“But they’re not,” Cullen gathered. “If she is pregnant…”

“Then the taint should be no longer.” Her happiness was radiant and he couldn't help but kiss her again. “Alistair is still worried though,” she eventually admitted. “He… feels as though the cure may not have worked on him.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Does he still feel the connection to the darkspawn?”

“No,” she breathed, grinning. “Maybe my faith is blind, but I truly believe he is cured as well. He is only being paranoid.”

“As usual.”

Ellana snickered. “I have missed you,” she whispered. “So very much.”

“And I you, my love.” He nuzzled his nose against hers for good measure.

“And the little one in there,” she sighed. “Lights of my life. I don't know how many more lengthy trips I can take when it means being away from you two for _so long._ ” She frowned. “Do you think Dorian and Varric would move back in permanently? That would eliminate trips to Kirkwall and Tevinter…”

Cullen chuckled. “Ma' vhenan, they are both very powerful people in their homes, I do not think they could serve while so far away.”

“Just ruin me, why don't you?” she jabbed playfully.

He hummed, said, “Never,” and rolled them until he was on top of her. “I love you.”

“I love _you_ ,” she beamed.

And never did he need anything more.


	2. Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ellana's illness isn't actually an illness.

Cullen was pacing.

Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, feet carrying him back and forth, back and forth as he waited.

He _hated_ waiting.

He huffed. “ _Blast it.”_ And off he rushed, out of the bedroom, out into the Great Hall, down the ridiculous amount of stairs-- _honestly, why are this many stairs separating me from the gates?--_ until he was at the entrance of Skyhold.

Where he could wait some more.

In public.

Perhaps he did not think this through.

There were Orlesians visiting, _filthy-_ , and they snickered at him when he skittered to a halt in front of the giant gates, staring up at them in anguish as if that would make her appear _faster_.

With difficulty, he tore himself away, marched over to the table next to the stairs and sat down on top of it, all formality lost. He hadn’t even put on his _armor_ , not that he wore it around the castle as much as he used to anyway, but still. Technically, as Commander, he should be greeting the incoming party _formally,_ not as the Inquisitor’s blubbery husband!

But alas, there he was, sitting on top of a table, staring aimlessly in anticipation, wearing the white tunic she always raved about him in, running his fingers through his already tousled hair.

Waiting.

“Commander.” A cautious Scout approached, and Cullen _truly_ had no time for-

“Not. Now.” He seethed. Impatience was winning his internal battle.

“I-” The Scout cleared his throat. “I was only to let you know that the Inquisitor’s party has been spotted. They are approaching.”

“ _Wha-_...” Cullen sighed, glaring after the Scout who had taken off running, scared he would feel the Commander’s wrath for speaking out of turn.

But the warmth of pure anticipation filled him now, distracting him, and it took _everything_ within him not to run to the gates, _through_ them, until he reached the love of his life and held her in his arms once again.

It had been nearly _three months_ since he had seen her last, as in, _far too long._ The Inquisition was not as active as it once was, trips so long were not common anymore, and… Maker, he just missed his wife dearly, alright? Everything about her, he _needed_ it.

Once the gates were slowly creaking open, he could withhold no longer, he was there, watching Ellana, Bull, Cassandra, and Krem approach on their mounts agonizingly slow.

A chuckle sounded next to him, and he did not have to spare a glance to know it was Josephine. “If you want to run to her, I would not judge,” she provided lightly.

“Do not be ridiculous,” he huffed as he marched forward anyway.

He would _walk_ to her, not _run_. That was perfectly reasonable.

He laughed, the sound escaping him, relief flooding him as soon as she was close enough to really _see_ . The braid of her long brown hair, the Dalish markings along her face, her bright blue eyes, and he _melted_ when she smiled at him, when he noticed the tears in her eyes.

There was something different about her, however, but he just could not quite figure out what.

But that’s when he rushed forward, walking be _damned_ , so overwhelmed with the need to touch her that he was immediately helping her down from her horse and probably _crushing_ her with a hug, automatically phasing out the mild protests, assuming they were jests at the two’s public affection.

He loosened his hold just enough for their lips to meet, and _Maker_ , he would never get over the way fireworks seemed to explode behind his eyelids every sodding time they kissed.

She grasped his arms, hard, almost… too hard actually, and he leaned his forehead against hers, silently questioning her.

“I need…” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know, my love, I know.”

“No, Cullen, I-I need to see… a healer.”

His blood ran cold.

“Something is wrong with me,” she continued, and suddenly his mind was clear enough to notice that she could not support herself, that she was pale and weak.

“What happened?” he asked immediately, commanding his voice not to shake. “Where are you hurt?” He got his hands under her elbows so he could get a better look at her and support her weight, but she did not appear to have any external wounds.

She shook her head, confirming his observations. “It’s not an injury, I-I don’t know what-...”

Her eyelids fluttered ominously, and in one swift movement he had her scooped up into his arms and pivoted back toward the castle. He shot one look back at Cassandra as his pace quickened. “What. Happened.”

“We do not know,” the Seeker answered solemnly. “Battle was light. She was never even hit-”

“Cullen…”

His body reacted to her voice immediately, attention averted from Cassandra as if they had been discussing the weather. “My love,” he whispered, let his eyes slide shut for a moment when her hand touched his cheek. “Are you alright? What are your symptoms?”

“I think I merely caught something on our travels, is all.” She shook her head slowly. “I woke up sick yesterday morning, and I have just been… a little weak ever since.”

“Don’t let her talk this down,” Krem suddenly fell into step beside Cullen. “It hasn’t been pretty.”

Cullen stared at Krem for a moment in worry, “Will you-”

The Charger nodded. “I’ll run ahead and make sure the healer is ready.”

Looking back down at his love told him everything he needed to know. She was talking her illness down because she was terrified.

They understood each other, after so many years of irrevocable love, they knew what it meant when one quirked an eyebrow a certain way, what a certain look in their eyes meant. She was scared, and now, so was he.

Cullen sniffled and bundled her closer. “You’re going to be fine,” he whispered against her forehead before kissing it.

He heard a gasp then, and knew they had reached the gate. Josephine rushed forward while Cassandra and Bull rode ahead and wrangled all the nobles and onlookers away from the scene. “Ellana!” the Ambassador’s voice was more high-pitched than usual as she matched her pace with Cullen’s and stared down at the Elf in his arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Hello, Josie,” Ellana weakly prodded, her smile an attempt to lighten everyone’s mood.

Cullen answered instead. “She is ill. Weakened. They do not know what happened.”

He pretended that his voice did not break.

Ellana placed her hand on his chest when she heard it. “I’m going to be fine, remember?”

He huffed out a short laugh and could not help but lift her enough to kiss her forehead again and said, “Yes, you are going to be just fine.”

He pushed his fear aside. For her.

\---

The examination was excruciating for Cullen, and he could see it was for Ellana as well. He had tried, foolishly, to give her some privacy, but she had reminded him that they were married, and that she needed him, that her having to lie there in her underwear while the healer, Eileen, performed various tests, shouldn’t be something she has to hide from him.

So he sat next to her cot and held her hand, occupied his free one with resting in her hair, thumb stroking her forehead while she was obviously trying not to melt down over Eileen’s uncertain hums and the way she kept taking down notes, not really saying much aloud at all.

“Hey,” he whispered. Ellana turned her head toward him, eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears, and he tried not to let that affect him. “I love you.”

Her bottom lip quivered as she squeezed his hand. “I love you, too.”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, desperate to calm her nerves, because she would be okay. She _had_ to be okay. He would not lose her to some silly illness after all she had survived in her life. It simply wouldn’t be _fair_ to her.

They stared at each other from that point on, Cullen willing her to ignore Eileen’s obnoxious, confused sounds, the dreadful silence, as he continued to hold on to her and caress her.

“Ellana?”

The couple both snapped to attention.

Eileen smiled. “You’re gonna be just fine, honey.”

Cullen exhaled so loudly he startled himself, and felt his wife relax under his touch.

“You’re fatigued, mostly. I just wanna check one more thing, but I need you to be completely relaxed, alright?”

Ellana furrowed her eyebrows, glanced at Cullen, but nodded. She focused her gaze back on him and he smiled, kissed her once more. “I told you you were going to be fine.”

“You did, didn’t you?” she murmured, eyes tired but bright, relief evident, even as magic thrummed in Eileen’s hands as she scanned them over her, and Cullen had to admit, he did not understand what was happening, what Eileen was searching for.

“Yep. Just as I thought,” the healer said after a moment.

“I’m… sorry?” Ellana questioned, hand squeezing Cullen’s again, nervousness seeping back into her expression even though Eileen did not have a trace of distress on her face.

“My dear,” she said softly. “You’re pregnant.”

“ _What_?” Ellana exclaimed, while Cullen suddenly lost all ability to breathe properly, dots blackening his vision.

He mumbled, “You probably should have told us to sit down first,” and the Healer laughed.

“Neither one of you are standing, Commander.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “I forgot.”

Ellana slowly sat up, wincing, refusing to let go of Cullen’s hand, and he found himself staring at her in awe, observing the tiny bump of her usually flat stomach. “Is this bad?” she asked. “That I couldn’t tell? Does that mean something is wrong?”

“No, no, no,” Eileen assured. “You seem to be roughly three to four months along, but I can’t be sure obviously, and the weight you’ve gained just looks, and probably feels, like you’re bloated. That belly’ll start growing more real soon though if my estimate is right!”

The couple remained silent, shock overwhelming.

She continued, “You’re fatigued as you are, because you tend to live on scraps when you’re traveling, and that’s no longer enough. You’ve got another mouth to feed now!” Ellana’s gaze drifted to her husband then, and the Healer backed away slowly. “I’m gonna prepare some tonics for you, ‘Lana, stuff that’ll help keep you and the baby healthy!”

Cullen stood, stare unwavering, even as his knees wobbled a bit, so that he could sit down where her head had been. Mindlessly, he helped her swing her legs around the side of the cot so she could properly face him.

“A baby,” he whispered.

Her expression was uncertain, as if she was gauging his reaction, and he could no longer hold it within.

“We’re having a _baby_!” he cried happily, grabbing her face in both of his hands and kissing her hard, feeling her melt under the action, relieved that he was happy, he guessed. But _Maker_ , of _course_ he was happy! He had never allowed himself to dream of things like family before he met Ellana, but when they grew serious, when their survival seemed possible finally, when he proposed marriage to her, _all_ he could dream about was having a family with her. A big one, if she would allow it. And maybe this wasn’t planned, but, “Maker’s breath,” he whispered into her lips, and she sighed.

“We’re having a baby,” she repeated gently, kissing his bottom lip and throwing her arms around him in a hug.

He hoisted her into his lap and buried his face and tears of happiness in her neck. “I love you so much, darling.”

“Oh, ma’vhenan,” she murmured, voice cracking. “I love you, too. Always.”

His hand found her stomach and he picked his head back up to see her. “I can’t believe our first child is in there.”

She grinned at his emphasis on _first_ , as she was very much aware of his ambition, and kissed him leisurely, thoroughly. A proper first kiss after three months apart. Even if they were wiping each other’s tears away the entire time. At least they were crying over something so good, so pure.

“Is it too soon?” she asked after a moment. “We’ve discussed children but we were trying to wait…”

“No, Elle, this is- this is…” Words failed him completely as he was overcome by a wave of emotion.

She nodded, understanding him as always. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.”

He could do nothing but kiss her again, trying to convey through the molding of their mouths how happy he was, how happy she always made him, how much he had missed her.

“Darling?” she eventually interjected. “Could we go to our quarters? A bed sounds wonderful and my lightheadedness is coming back full-force…”

“Maker, yes, of course! I’m sorry, love.” He gently eased her back onto the cot and walked over to the table that held her clothes, helped her get dressed. “I’ll send a messenger to the kitchens as well, so you can properly eat.”

She hummed as he got her to her feet, and an arm firmly around her waist, supporting her. “My hero.”

“That’s me,” he joked. “Your own personal knight in shining armor.”

She grinned up at him. “Soon to be father.”

Cullen faltered, warmth blooming within him. “That will-” he chuckled. “That will certainly take some getting used to.”

But Maker, get used to it, he would.


End file.
